


Last One Up

by ThatBritishBoy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Drinking, Great Depression, Guns, Historical, Historical References, M/M, Prohibition, Russian Mafia, Threats of Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBritishBoy/pseuds/ThatBritishBoy
Summary: Alfred a young man barely grown into his 20s idolises great criminals like Bonnie and Clyde. The depression was a hard time, even for the richest. No longer dreaming of money, Alfred wanted power. Where would he find power? In the New Jersey speakeasies of course. There he goes looking for none other than the Russian mob. Will that pretty face and charming charisma get him to the top? Or will Alfred find himself facing the kiss of death?Mentions of Historical Figures.Focuses on the end of the prohibition era, the beginning of the Great Depression, and the height of Organised Crime in the early 1930s.





	1. Questionable Circumstances

The back alleys of New Jersey and New York weren’t really something a kid in his 20s should have been rummaging around. Especially not a young man dressed in a designer suit. Alfred covered his face carefully with his hat as he came across the door with no light on. Gold glittered from under his overcoat, a gift from his father back home. 

The bell chimed as the gentleman entered a barber shop. Two gentlemen sat by the counter up front. Alfred’s heart was pounding in his ear drums. He’d never gotten this far. “Not open.” The gruff German growled from behind the cards in his hand.

“I heard this was where I could get a cut from some blind barber.” Alfred spoke, removing his hat to show golden locks and a brilliantly white smile. Teeth too straight to be from any kind of poor family. He flashed the cash he kept in his vest pocket. The younger of the two, a smaller brunette man perked up. “That kind of thing costs money.” He spoke in a sing-song voice that brought a smile to the larger German man. 

Alfred threw him a twenty. “Will this get it? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a haircut for more than… what two, maybe three dollars?” He smirked over at him. The smaller man lunged at the cash grinning like a fool. “He’s a good barber, blind and all that.” He smiled brightly batting his lashes at Alfred. “Liebe, let him go.” The German scolded the smaller. 

The Italian pouted before tilting his head towards the back. “Third door, on the right. Don’t spill the beans or you’ll never come back here, alive.” His attitude shifted with the change in his tone. Alfred nodded quickly, hurrying off to the door, before he could run his mouth. An old habit of his. 

He came across the door, hands shaking as he turned the rusted doorknob. Alfred held his breath as he pushed the door open, heart pounding at what would be waiting behind it. Perhaps a set up. A cop with a pistol. Or worse, a broom closet.

Alfred’s eyes had shut in anticipation and he only realised after the door had opened and all he saw was darkness. He let out a breath and opened them. Stairs. Alfred looked back to the men playing cards. Third door. It was on the right. This had to be it. He ducked down the stairs, watching his head as he went, and as he turned the corner, a set of double doors. It would look like a loading dock. If this wasn’t a barber shop, and also wasn’t underground it would fool anyone. He pushed open a door with his shoulder, they were heavy and for good reason. The swing band’s music flooded the room. A smile lit up Alfred’s face. This was it. 

He stepped into the room only to have a young woman waltz up and greet him. She held a platter of drinks in glimmering crystal glasses. Drinks Alfred had never been able to try. Alcohol. His eyes sparkled like the crystal before him. It filled his body with warmth without even taking a sip. He’d done it. He finally made his way in. 

After his father had loaned him money, Alfred promised to head up North to get a law degree. At least law could be used at this time. It was either that or become a politician. Politicians offered nothing but empty promises. No, Alfred had better plans. Plans that involved drinking, one of the minor illegal schemes he had his heart set out for. He’d make a name for himself. That he could promise. 

He grabbed a glass of whatever this was, some kind of a martini. Alfred tipped her as she giggled to him. He hung his hat and coat on the hooks by the door. Checking the coat pockets for his valuables before leaving it there. He made his way slowly over to watch the beautiful woman who sung lowly to him from across the room. Her blonde hair was like a halo, but it didn’t match the deep red lipstick she wore, or the words she used to seduce them all. Her black gown clung to her, and the beading glittered as she spoke lowley into the mic. The piano playing behind her as she made eye contact with each of the patrons. 

Alfred found her alluring but in the way you’d find a gem among coal. Shocking, but something you’d find in any mine. He smiled and tilted his head at her, before finishing off his drink and heading to the bar. The music picked up in tempo and volume as the fiddler started back up with her. Perfect timing as he approached the bar and took a seat. He took a minute to admire the dark wood beneath his hands. He’d seen bars before, but they were all shut down. Had been for what felt like his whole life. 

His ears perked at the bartender down the line from him. He was muttering something. Something in a language that had Alfred’s heart returning to his throat. Russian. Alfred knew it too well, practiced it, lived it. Anything to get in good with who he was looking for. Searching for. The man that could change his life. 

He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t fail him. “Я буду водка.” He spoke cleanly. He hoped it was clean at least. The barkeep looked up quickly, looking to him in surprise before that melted into confusion. He wasn’t a bad looking gentleman. Bags under his eyes were a little dark, but Alfred imagined this job could be a little on the stressful side. He had shoulder length mousy brown hair, and lovely green eyes, that now stared at him in confusion. 

Alfred grinned and the gentleman looked even more confused. The bartender nodded quickly, motioning that he would get Alfred’s drink. A few minutes passed before he set the glass down in front of him. “You are not russian.” The bartender spoke softly, eyebrows raised in suspicion. Alfred’s heart rate picked up. How did this guy know? Was his russian that bad?!

He cleared his throat before calmly speaking, though a gentle pink dusted his cheeks. “No, sorry. I heard you speaking to yourself in russian, and I could always use the practice.” Alfred grinned gently brushing off the other’s comments, and his own panic. The bartender gawked at him, before shrugging. “I speak english just fine, no reason to go around speaking in russian.” He muttered, moving to dry off some glasses with the towel on his shoulder. 

“I heard a lot of people around these parts speak russian… What’s your name?” Alfred spoke rather carefully, like he was walking into dangerous territory. The barkeep slowly looked up squinting in his direction. “That is what happens when you live only a few minutes from the Island isn’t it… and the name is Toris.” He inserted shrugging off Alfred’s questions. This boy was going to get himself in trouble. 

Alfred smiled as the other gave out his name. “I’m Alfred.” He was beaming. “Well actually I’ve been looking for a certain russian.” He wasn’t looking at Toris as he spoke. The bartender had stopped his motions to stare carefully at the American sitting across from him. He slowly reached under the bar to press a little buzzer on the underside of the wooden ledge. Yeah this kid was definitely going to get shot. “You ever heard of a family by the name of Braginski.”

Toris quickly stopped him. “I would be quiet if I was you. This is not the kind of place to be throwing names like that around.” He warned him quickly. Alfred’s eyebrows scrunched together in frustration. “No way, this was where I was told I could find him. Where I could find Багровый.” A hand clamped down on his shoulder and yanked him from his seat. Alfred’s eyes went wide as he came face to face with the German from upstairs. 

Alfred looked back to Toris, who seemed a little apologetic, but didn’t try to defend him. Yeah, Alfred was going to get shot. The german practically guided Alfred through the club like a paper doll. Damn. All that hard work and he was getting kicked out for being too eager. Except the blond guy wasn’t taking him to the entrances he came from. No… this was the opposite direction. 

All too suddenly Alfred was being pushed into a darker room. Everyone before them looked up as Alfred stumbled forward. The German man now blocked the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. ‘That was the only exit.’ Was Alfred’s first thought. ‘That’s a mob boss.’ Was his second thought as his eyes landed on the most intimidating man he’d ever seen.


	2. Crimson Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Guns and threatening

Alfred couldn’t believe his eyes. As his vision became more accustomed to the darker room, he realised there were many others sitting around. He allowed his eyes to dart around and take in the scene. Two lovely women sat over to the corner, chatting between themselves. Both were striking blondes each either smoking or drinking. They wore tight fitting jewel tone gowns and furs. One was more doe eyed, whereas the other had a glare fit for the Arctic. Now that he looked between them and the boss ahead of him, he could tell they were related. Or at least they were all Russian. He looked away quickly as the petite blonde sneered at him. 

His eyes darted back to the boss and the men surrounding him. They were playing cards. A blonde gentleman, hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and well groomed beard to the left. He had a lovely lady across his lap, she was silently laughing at him while playing with the buttons of his half undone shirt. She was completely unaware of the current tension in the room. 

To the bosses right, was a red eyed white haired man. His suspenders hung from his waist, he was rather frustrated from the interruption. Perhaps he had a good hand, which he was currently fiddling with.

On either side of them sat two more people. An Italian who looked familiar to the one he’d seen upstairs. No that can’t be. His hair wasn’t that dark. Alfred tried to think about it but the german behind him squeezed his shoulder and he gasped in pain. This guy was going to break his arm. The other was a woman. Her long brown hair was draped down her back. She wore a blouse and a skirt that was just as tight fitting as the other two women’s dresses, but she was almost as fit as the German behind him. She wore a smug smile as she tried to look at the white haired gentleman’s cards. 

There were two more men off in the corner with the women now, and Alfred realised he was probably not going to make it out alive.

And then…

Alfred’s eyes landed on the boss. Tried to anyways. It was hard to look the guy in the eyes. Dread filled his stomach, and could anyone blame him? The boss was a large man. Not large in that he was heavy set, or even exceptionally wide. No… he was tall. Even sitting down, he seemed to tower over Alfred. Perhaps it was those eyes. Violet. His heart was in his ears as he made eye contact with him. Alfred realised with a sense of fear that the boss didn’t seem to blink. What was worse, he found himself fixated by those eyes, and the long pale lashes that surrounded them. 

He wore intimidation like a coat. Now that Alfred could look away from his eyes he noticed the rest of him. A strong jawline, handsome. His stomach clenched at that idea. A nose that on anyone else would have been too large, but the notch reminded Alfred of a marble statue. It had been broken once. His skin was similar to marble too. Guess those Russians didn’t get a lot of sun. His hair was to his ears, wispy wintery blonde like the two women in the corner. Family. 

Perhaps the bosses features stood out from the well fitted suit he wore. All black, down to the tie and leather gloves in his hand. Hands that were not holding cards. A pistol was sitting on the table next to the boss. He couldn’t help but focus on the gun. That was why his hands were empty. 

Alfred could feel himself swallow, hear it too. He wet his lips with his tongue before giving his normal dashing smile. He didn’t look away from the gun. “That’s a Colt M1911.” Alfred blurted out motioning to the pistol. “Those things can pierce a bullet vest.” Alfred gasped as the German yanked him back into place. His arm should not be in that position. 

The boss didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at him before waving the german to let him go. He gasped and straightened out his now aching shoulder. Before Alfred could speak Ivan stopped him. “You know this gun?” He asked. Alfred thought maybe it was out of curiosity. 

“Yeah it’s standard issue in the military. Not sure how any civilian got their hands on one but I’d love to know the secret.” He flashed the guy a smile. The Russian’s lip tilted up in distaste at that. Oh boy, maybe too friendly there Alfred. 

“What do you know of US military?” He questioned. This guy wasn’t making room for a long conversation… Alfred figured he’d have to play his games.

“I have a fascination with guns. Not so much with the military. I have wanted to pop a couple caps with a beauty like that…” Alfred laughed to himself as if he’d made the best joke of the year. Like it wasn’t insane to talk about shooting a gun in a room full of… the mob.

That is what this is. It sank in as Alfred looked around to all of them again. His hands fidgeting as eyes were on him. He raked his fingers through his hair quickly. 

“You have fascination with guns. Do you go around to every speakeasy bar bragging about guns, and asking for Russian names, or is that another fascination?” Ivan sipped his drink slowly. 

Alfred licked his lips again before rubbing his hands together and clapping them. “Look I’ve just been trying to find my way around this town. This city has grown pretty large, ya know, with New York just across the way.” He smiled shakily. “I heard there were people who would better understand me.”

“Understand you?” The boss quipped back, placing his glass back down. “I do not think any of us understand you. What fool goes around city asking for the Braginski family.”

Alfred halted. Was this not the Braginski family. Had he ended up at the wrong place. Did these guys have it out with the Braginskis? Alfred was screwed. Definitely dead by the end of the night by this point. But maybe, just maybe he could talk his way out of this one.

“Ah! I apologise I definitely was informed this was the Braginski neighbourhood.” He held up his hands in a surrender way, taking a step back into that German asshole again. Fuck. 

“Informed?” His eyes shot from the boss to the now peeved white haired man. Another German. Alfred felt his blood run cold. Informed?! Who would say something like that to the mob?!  
A cop that’s who.

“Search him.” The Russian commanded. Alfred found his arms being held by that damn German again. This guy was getting on his nerves. If he wasn’t in this suit, he could have probably taken him though… maybe. He was jolted from his internal street fight as another tall gentleman in glasses, and the woman from the table began to search his jacket. Nothing was in the pockets except his gold watch. No guns, no badge, nothing. 

“Listen I’m not a cop!” Alfred snapped, pulling his arm out of their hold. He turned to the German and glared. “Go easy on the shoulder blades there bud.” He hissed under his breath, again stretching the muscle. 

Ivan stood slowly. “Let him go. He is no threat.” He let out a short laugh, mocking him. “Listen here, clearly you are like child. Running your mouth and throwing around this knowledge of guns.” Ivan spoke as he approached Alfred. “What is it you are looking for?” He was now standing in front of Alfred. 

The American was by no means small. He prided himself on his body. Tall, but not towering. Fit, but not bulky. Alfred was muscular and lean, and able to lift far more than he looked like he was able to. His body was similar to that of a baseball player, tight butt and all. His size was by no means small, but he had the ability to surprise people when it came to strength. 

And for the first time in his life, Alfred felt small. Real fucking small. The Russian’s shoulders were wider than Alfreds, thicker but not in a muscular way. He was just large. His chest was broad, and his height, as Alfred had guessed, was towering. He had assumed the Russian was large from his seat, but now up close to him, large was an understatement. This man wasn’t just intimidating personally. He was intimidating physically too.

At least 7 inches taller than Alfred, he leaned down. Grabbing Alfred from the back of his head, leather cold against his scalp. Alfred gasped. Ears throbbing from excitement and absolute terror. He leaned in lips near Alfred’s ear. “What game do you think this is?” He questioned lowly. “Who do you really think you’re dealing with?” He tugged Alfred’s hair back slightly. The throbbing stopped when he heard the safety of the pistol, and felt the barrel of the gun press against his abdomen. 

In a moment of stupid terror, Alfred said the one word on his mind. “Багровый.”


End file.
